


A World Grown Cold

by yuffiehighwind



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 23:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30130254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuffiehighwind/pseuds/yuffiehighwind
Summary: After his wife Priscilla is killed, Jefferson returns home to their two-year-old daughter Grace.This fanfic picks up immediately after Priscilla’s death in the tie-in graphic novel “Out of the Past." It recounts those first few minutes, then continues into that night and the following day. It features an original male character, and a brief appearance by another famous jumper.
Relationships: Mad Hatter | Jefferson/Priscilla





	A World Grown Cold

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this fanfic as [Chapter 30](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555469/chapters/74071413#workskin) of my longer fanfic "[I’m lighting matches just to swallow up the flame](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555469),” so the events of this ‘fic take place within the same universe as my old fanfiction series “[Some Kind of Madness](https://archiveofourown.org/series/30855).”
> 
> In 2015, Marvel published a tie-in graphic novel for Once Upon a Time, written by Kalinda Vazquez and Corinna Bechko, called “[Out of the Past](https://onceuponatime.fandom.com/wiki/Out_of_the_Past).” It is a short anthology of four stories. The fourth one is titled “Tea Party in March," and tells the story of how Jefferson met Grace’s mother and how she died.
> 
> My original character Rick is a Khajiit who first appeared in [Chapter 6](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555469/chapters/67598440) of Lighting Matches, who is an old friend of Jefferson’s. Khajiit are a race of cat-like people from the Elder Scrolls games. (He doesn’t have a traditional Khajiit name because of a joke in Lighting Matches, but keeps the name here.)
> 
> The song Rick sings to Grace is called "Dancing Among the Flowers Fine." I found the lyrics on [this Elder Scrolls wiki](https://en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Music#Khajiit_Songs). Here are two videos of [male](https://youtu.be/Gh0lbYrGfH8) and [female](https://youtu.be/ftE7VXEwGNg) characters singing the song in-game.
> 
> Percy the White Rabbit comes from the spin-off series Once Upon a Time in Wonderland, and first appeared in Chapters [16](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555469/chapters/69136038) and [17](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555469/chapters/69243636) of Lighting Matches.
> 
> My description of Jefferson and Priscilla’s house is based on the illustrations in “Tea Party in March.” Victorian England is featured twice in canon - Alice comes from there in the spin-off series Once Upon a Time in Wonderland, and so do Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, characters from Season 6 of Once Upon a Time.
> 
> The title is a slightly altered lyric from the song [Gone Away](https://youtu.be/-I-j-ehNUlo) by The Offspring.
> 
> Jefferson’s first line comes from Priscilla's death scene in “Tea Party in March.”

* * *

**A World Grown Cold**

“Goodbye, Priscilla. You’ll always be my most precious treasure.”

Jefferson chokes out the words through racking sobs, but she's already gone. 

Their pursuer - the March Hare - peers through the widening hole in the wooden door between them and barks orders at his henchmen. _(Get him, stop them, stop her bleeding, move that corpse!)_ Jefferson, still clutching his wife’s body and kissing her face, closes his eyes and reaches for the Hat. Its ancient magic courses through the portal jumper - _(no, the magic isn’t channeled through him, it never has; the magic wraps around him, carrying him like an ocean wave)_ \- as soon as he touches its brim. 

Somehow the artifact knows what Jefferson needs. There's no swirling purple vortex or chasm in the floor - the cloud of magic envelops Jefferson’s body, then he and the Hat are gone. 

Jefferson rematerializes in the Portal of Doors alone, curled up on his side. Opening his eyes, he is surrounded by red. It takes a second to remember he's inside the Hat. _(No, this room is not inside the Hat. It's in the space between spaces, somewhere within the in-between.)_ He closes his eyes again - _(there's so much red!)_ \- presses his cheek against the cool, black marble floor and cries. 

Minutes pass, and Jefferson rolls onto his back to gaze at the dark void that substitutes the chamber’s ceiling. His abdomen aches from sobbing, but he forces himself up. 

Priscilla’s blood cakes his hands. Jefferson removes his ruby scarf and frantically wipes his skin, but the blood has dried. With no liquid but his tears, there's no washing off the grim reminder his true love is dead. 

How many times over the years has he fled to this room, for it to serve as his refuge? Old friend, indeed. He could spend days here mourning and the Hat would let him. But time passes in this room concurrently with time in the Enchanted Forest, and time in Wonderland passes unpredictably. How long has Priscilla been on her rescue mission, away from their daughter Grace?

Fear seizes Jefferson, overpowering his grief. He leaps to his feet and starts to run. He's been Jumping for so long that he can transition from inside the Hat to the Enchanted Forest as effortlessly as an Azerothian mage teleporting. _(Or two certain sorcerers he can name.)_ Jefferson imagines his family’s home and he is there. 

The Hat reappears between his fingers and he chucks it away from him. No more distractions. Never again.

The house Jefferson and Priscilla had built - _(they were so naive, so careless, so young and ambitious)_ \- is a three-story structure modeled after homes he saw in another world. He visited more than one version of England, but this one’s queen was named Victoria, so that's what Jefferson called it. His and Priscilla’s clothing was tailored in the Victorian style as well, which sometimes garnered strange looks from other Enchanted Forest residents, but pleased them.

The house looms over him and is much larger than they needed. But Jefferson remembers strolling through that other world’s streets with Priscilla and excitedly pointing at various buildings, fantasizing out loud about their future. 

“Grace! _Grace!”_

He almost expects Priscilla to walk onto that porch - chiding him for shouting so loudly, enough to wake the baby - but one of their oldest friends appears instead. Sensing something is horribly wrong, he halts Jefferson on the stairs.

Jefferson is alarmed at first, seeing a man emerge with Grace alone in the house, then recognizes his friend's distinct silhouette - Rick, a Khajiit that Jefferson met in Skyrim. They lived together briefly, long ago, but Jefferson made decisions that led Rick to distance himself from the reckless portal jumper. Until Jefferson chose a life with Priscilla. They reconnected after that.

Rick has a masculine, humanoid body with the facial features and tail of a cat, with fur similar to a light-brown mountain lion's. He dresses like an average Enchanted Forest commoner, in a green tunic with dark brown trousers. Rick is not his given name, but it's one he goes by among their friends.

“Jefferson!”

“Where’s Grace?”

“She’s asleep, taking her afternoon nap. What happened?”

Breathing heavily from his sprint and throat still hoarse from crying, Jefferson struggles to vocalize the last agonizing hour of his life. The final hour of _Priscilla’s_ life. 

His appearance says enough. Looking him over, Rick's eyes widen in alarm.

“Jefferson, your hands.”

Jefferson holds them up, turning them to inspect both sides. After wiping them on his scarf, it's now a fading red stain, but unmistakably blood. 

Rick hurriedly fetches the watering can they keep on the porch for their flowers - _(ordinary ones, that are un-magical and unable to speak in riddles)_ \- and pours the water over Jefferson’s fingers. Jefferson tosses his soiled scarf on the ground. Its stench turns his stomach.

“Where is he?” 

Rick tenses. 

“Jefferson…”

Icily, Jefferson repeats the question.

“Where. Is. He?”

“Out back. He’s been keeping that portal open for hours.”

Jefferson flies off the porch.

 _“RABBIT!”_

Just behind the house, hovering above patchy browning grass, there is a bright, swirling, blue and white portal. A three foot tall, humanoid rabbit stands in front - wearing a white suit and black bowler hat - steadily rotating his hands in a stirring motion. His back is turned to Jefferson, who would hear the rabbit panting in exhaustion, if not for the blood pounding in his ears. 

The rabbit turns his head, his red eyes widening behind round magenta glasses. 

“Jefferson, you’re back! Where’s Priscilla?”

Storming across the lawn towards his old mentor, Jefferson barely resists the urge to grab him by the ears and shake him.

“She’s _dead!”_ he shouts, pointing aggressively at the rabbit. _“Killed,_ because of you!”

The rabbit - Percy - drops his arms, allowing the portal to shrink to a blue dot and close. Turning around, he says in breathless shock, “What?”

“How could you let her go alone?” Jefferson demands furiously, spitting, “You’re _that much_ of a coward?”

Percy holds up his hands in protest.

“Jefferson--” 

“You’re so powerful and so wise,” Jefferson says, voice dripping with sarcasm, “afraid of losing a couple of _ears?”_

Percy’s posture stiffens - remorseless and matter-of-fact.

“Priscilla insisted on going. She _begged_ me for a portal.”

Stepping closer - towering above him and twice the rabbit’s height - Jefferson asks, “How much did she pay you?”

Percy doesn’t back down, snapping, “You know what she’s like. She’s as stubborn as you are!”

“She _was._ Because she’s dead. Because _you_ killed her!”

Jefferson steps back, clenching his fists and restlessly pacing while Percy makes his excuses.

“She wouldn’t have gone if you hadn’t disappeared. No note? No idea where you were or when you’d be back? William’s letter was her only clue.”

“All the more reason not to let her go alone.” Miserably, Jefferson asks, “How _could_ you?”

“It’s not my fault, Jefferson, it’s _yours.”_

Jefferson’s stomach tightens. He can feel tears welling up, but he can’t cry in front of Percy.

Percy continues, scolding and judgmental. 

“What were _you_ thinking, going alone? You weren’t, were you? Thought you’d be in and out like a ghost. No strategy, no backup. Just you and that silly hat.”

 _“Fuck you,_ Percy!”

“You know I’m right.”

Chuckling mirthlessly, Jefferson gestures skyward, saying with mock reverence, “What a pedestal you stand on, knowing better than everyone else!” Jefferson scowls and says coldly, “You’re a _pest,_ Rabbit, like _all_ your kind. Digging your holes.”

“Jefferson, listen to me,” Percy insists. _“You leaving_ is the reason Priscilla asked for my help.”

“So that’s it?” Jefferson says in disbelief. “No apology, no remorse? Just _lecturing_ me again?”

Soberly, Percy replies, “I’m sorry this happened, Jefferson. Truly, I am.”

Jefferson jabs a finger at the rabbit.

 _“Not_ good enough.”

Percy makes a frustrated noise.

“I don’t know what else to tell you. You were missing for three days and she started to worry. She knew you’d gone after the Clock and tracked me down to find you.”

Jefferson’s stomach drops.

_Three days…Three days…It’s only been three days?_

The thought flashes through Jefferson's mind that he should be thankful he's been gone for such a short time. If he had been missing for months? He can’t imagine what anguish that would have put his family through.

_But it’s been six months._

“It’s been three days?” he asks. Percy doesn’t pick up on his confusion.

“A week, now,” the rabbit says. Disdainfully, he adds, “She never planned very far ahead either.”

Shaking off his surprise at the timeline, Jefferson hears Percy is now putting the fault on Priscilla. Suppressing his rage - before he does another thing he’ll regret - Jefferson tells the rabbit firmly, “You need to leave right now.”

“Jefferson--”

“Go!” he shouts, pointing away from the house. Percy doesn’t argue - he raises his arms, casting his spell that opens portals. 

At first it appears as a dot above the ground, then a circle - a hole in space. Its edges rapidly expand outward in a way Jefferson knows intimately. He can _feel_ that ancient magic. It crackles like electricity around their bodies, but also feels like pressurized air. It takes his breath away, sometimes.

He can taste it too, and here magic has a copper quality. In other lands, it smells like petrichor, in a few realms like sulphur, and in some places like flowers. In Wonderland - a world full of beautiful, aromatic plants - magic tastes like iron.

The White Rabbit’s hole grows just big enough to fit himself. Before he steps into it, Jefferson says, “Percy.” The rabbit’s ears perk up and he turns his head.

Solemnly, Jefferson tells him, “I’m never accepting help from you or your kind ever again.”

Percy says nothing and steps into his portal. His body vanishes in a flash of white light, and the vortex shrinks then closes. It disappears, leaving nothing but a slight breeze behind.

* * *

  
  


How long has Priscilla been dead? Less than twenty minutes? It feels longer. Still dizzy with the shock - and worked up from his fight with Percy - Jefferson needs to sit down. He wants to collapse, but has to make sure his daughter is okay.

Rick has left the porch - he has probably gone in to check on Grace.

Jefferson steps inside and Rick is standing near the door, at the bottom of the central staircase. He is carrying a fidgeting Grace in his arms. She’s big now, at two years old - bigger than the last time Rick watched her. But she’s comfortable, being held by him. Grace calls him “Kitty.”

Jefferson can tell his friend’s trying his best to soothe her, but as soon as she sees Jefferson, Grace reaches out to him, saying, “Papa!”

“She heard you shouting."

Jefferson approaches them slowly, quietly telling her, “I’m sorry, Grace. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Where’s Mommy?” she asks, with a slight frown.

The question is a gutpunch, and Jefferson’s instinct is to reassure Grace that her mother will be home soon. But he glances at Rick - a person tragically familiar with losing family - and the Khajiit subtly shakes his head. _Don’t._

Jefferson freezes, and he can’t look his own daughter in the eye. He doesn’t know what to do. She’s still just a baby. _Are you supposed to tell babies?_

“Papa?”

Jefferson exchanges another meaningful look with Rick, pleading for a hint of what to do, but he says nothing. He can’t, because Grace is listening intently. She’s looking at Jefferson with some puzzlement. The silence is tense and uncomfortable.

Jefferson had been much older - “on the verge of manhood” - when his own mother died, and the circumstances were different. He was bluntly told by a stranger she was dead, but by that age, Jefferson knew what death _was._ He knows you’re supposed to tell children the truth, but how can you tell a baby, who won’t understand? 

So he blurts it. 

“Mommy’s dead, sweetheart.”

Grace doesn’t know the word, so she still looks confused. 

Rick nods his approval, and Jefferson struggles to think of a further explanation that isn’t a lie. Earlier, he lay in the Portal of Doors, clutching his stomach and grieving, and vowed not to make promises he can’t keep again. That includes giving his daughter false hope her mother will return. He’s done that to someone before.

“She’s dead and she isn’t coming back. Mommy died, and dying means...It’s when a person’s body stops working and isn’t alive anymore. Mommy can’t come back because she isn’t alive.”

He thinks Grace has some idea how bodies work and what being alive means, and hopes she understands. She seems to get it - which breaks his heart - and Grace looks upset. She squirms in Rick’s arms, reaching out for Jefferson, so Rick hands her to him.

“Why?” she asks.

“Because she saved me!” Jefferson says, eyes watering. “She died doing something very brave so I could come home to you.”

“Mommy’s not coming home?”

“She _can’t_ come home.”

Jefferson hugs Grace closer. He fears she can smell the stench of her mother’s blood on his skin and clothes, but she needs his affection - and he needs hers.

“But she was so brave, Grace!” he tells her with a smile. “So brave and strong! She saved my life. She died so you and I can be together.”

“But I’ll _miss_ her,” says Grace.

“I’ll miss her too.”

Her little arms wrap around Jefferson’s neck and he could hold her for hours, but he still smells like death.

“Sweetheart, I need you to stay with Rick a little longer while I take a bath. I’ll be in the bathroom. I’m not going anywhere else, I just need to wash off some dirt.”

Grace looks sad, but doesn’t protest when Jefferson hands her to “Kitty.”

“I’m so grateful you’re here, Rick. You have no idea how much this means to me. Please, _please_ stay with her while I bathe. I’ll be quick.”

“Take your time, Jefferson.”

Rick takes Grace to her playroom, and Jefferson heads upstairs, to wash off months of horror. 

* * *

Part of why their house was so expensive was because builders in the Enchanted Forest were unfamiliar with Victorian architecture and technology, so Jefferson and Priscilla required assistance from the other world. The couple discovered - not to any surprise - that contractors weren’t too keen on traveling between universes for jobs, unless they were being paid handsomely.

Upkeep on the building itself was doable in the Enchanted Forest. The only items alien to the realm were their bathtub, sinks and toilets. Plumbing in the Enchanted Forest was nonexistent, and after a few decadent hotel stays in London, Jefferson and Priscilla could never return to wooden tubs and outhouses.

Jefferson requires no hearth to warm his bath, or to draw buckets from a well. Their house is equipped with pipes of running water, with gas stoves to heat it. All he needs to do is turn a tap to fill their enameled clawfoot tub, and sink his body into it.

But Jefferson would need to wait for the water to heat up, which means more time with Priscilla’s blood drying under his fingernails. He fills the bath with cold water and gets in immediately - the coolness is a relief on his skin.

His body reeks of sweat beneath the grimy clothes he's been wearing since the March Hare trapped him in the Clock of Evermore’s time bubble. How time within the bubble worked, he isn’t sure. His hair has grown out, but not his beard. He can’t remember needing the toilet until now. Jefferson runs his hands through his greasy hair - its new length is just past his ears - and it serves as the only proof the months of torture actually happened.

His wife’s Victorian beauty products still fill their bathroom shelf, and Jefferson pretends she'll be angry with him for using her soaps and creams. He shaves and cleans his teeth, and says it like a mantra that she will return, so he doesn’t break down with the grief. So he won't clutch all the beautiful dresses in her closet and drape her gowns over himself like blankets - pitifully sad, pathetic and weak.

Jefferson can lie to himself, but he won’t lie to their daughter. He gets dressed - avoiding looking at Priscilla’s possessions - and heads downstairs. He isn’t sure how much time he spent bathing, but trusts Rick has kept Grace occupied with her toys. 

Jefferson enters the playroom to find Grace sitting on the floor by Rick’s chair. She’s holding her plush purple dragon doll, listening in rapt attention to him singing.

“Vistas unfold before me now

Sharing their secrets joyfully

They're bright in hue yet darkly dire

They warm me with softly glowing fire

They're bright in hue yet darkly dire

They warm me with softly glowing fire

Moving within the worlds between

Following all the gemstone birds

Yearning to hear his whispered words

Moving within the worlds between

Yearning to hear his whispered words

Moving within the worlds between.”

The song ends - Jefferson entered to catch the last two verses - and he smiles at them. Grace appears relaxed and sleepy from the Khajiit’s melodious voice.

“Hey,” says Jefferson, leaning in the doorway.

“How are you feeling?” Rick asks.

“Like I haven’t slept in six months.”

“You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I’ll wait ‘til she’s asleep. I don’t want her worrying about me.”

Humming the song Rick was just singing, Grace picks up her dragon doll and moves its legs around as if it’s dancing.

“I’m staying overnight,” Rick says to Jefferson. “We have a lot to talk about.”

"I don’t want to talk.”

“You _need_ to talk about it. For her sake.”

His friend has a point, but it’s been only two hours, if that. He can still see Priscilla’s closing eyes and hear her rasping final breaths and feel her go limp in his arms. It’s too soon to process - part of him is still in shock. He shouldn’t have to relive it already.

“Fine, you can stay.”

The Khajiit cooks them dinner, and to Jefferson’s relief, they’re able to put Grace to bed early. He retires when she does, with Rick watching over them. Jefferson feels bone-weary and could sleep for days. 

* * *

The March Hare holds Jefferson down, pouring red wine from a bottomless teacup into his open mouth until he chokes. Rumplestiltskin appears behind him and sets the Hare on fire with the snap of his fingers. Regina holds out her hand to help Jefferson to his feet. She is wearing a dress of peacock feathers, and the two sorcerers laugh as the March Hare burns. Jefferson looks over his shoulder, and sees the hands of a large gold clock on the wall are spinning faster and faster. They break off the clock and shoot at him like arrows, towards his neck, but he dodges them before they can break his skin. 

He is sitting with Priscilla in her white dress by the River Thames. She looks at him judgmentally, with a furrowed brow, and asks him what kind of life created such a selfish person. He blinks and she is teenage Regina in her riding clothes, munching on an apple. She asks him if chocobo meat tastes like chicken and what making love is like. Jefferson looks at the river, then looks back, and it’s Priscilla again. She tells him he is a liar, then her face begins to melt. Priscilla transforms into a rapidly decaying corpse and he tries to run but can’t - his whole body is frozen. Priscilla’s hands are now covered in strips of rotting flesh and she reaches for his face. By now her jawbone is entirely exposed, and she lunges at him. Jefferson’s hair grows longer and Priscilla snares it in her bony fingers, then he screams and wakes up.

“Shh, shh! You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Jefferson opens his eyes to see Rick hovering over him. The Khajiit sits down on the bed and pats his arm comfortingly.

“You were screaming.”

“Grace, is she--?”

“I told her you were having a bad dream.”

Embarrassed, Jefferson says, “What? No, don’t _tell_ her things like that.”

“She will worry you’re in danger otherwise.”

“I need to be strong for her.”

He tries to sit up, but Rick stops him.

“Jefferson, Priscilla _just died._ I lost a dear friend today, but you lost so much more.”

He knows Rick is right - it’s been only hours since Priscilla bled out in his lap, so of course he would have nightmares. What’s worse is he forgot until this moment that Rick is mourning her too. 

“I should blame you as well, for letting her go, but that would be unfair. Percy was right - this is all my fault.”

“Priscilla told me why you went. You’ve been after the Clock of Evermore for _years.”_

Jefferson sits up with a groan, and this time Rick lets him. He leans heavily against the headboard.

“It wasn’t the Clock, it was the money. If we could only sell it…” He sighs. “I just want to give Grace the life she deserves.”

“I understand.”

“No. You don’t. Because the Clock’s not why Priscilla’s dead - it was the Hat. The March Hare took it when he captured me, and I told her I needed it back to prevent him from following us. But that wasn’t the reason.”

Jefferson can’t look Rick in the eye, but the guilt is eating him, and he _needs_ to confess what happened. He rushes through it.

“The Hare could never have tracked us down - he wouldn’t have even _bothered._ He had the Clock and we were nobodies. But the Hat - I couldn’t let it go. Priscilla followed me to get it instead of taking her portal home. She was shot in the back with an arrow and died in my arms. The Hat wouldn’t even let me take her body.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Jefferson chokes back a sob. “I can’t ever forgive myself. I won’t. There’s something _wrong_ with me!” He looks at Rick and grips his hand, imploring, “Why would I give up everything I love for that wretched thing?”

“Priscilla _chose_ to follow you.”

“Priscilla _trusted_ me and it killed her.” 

Jefferson looks around the bedroom - he used to always keep the Hat within his sight, before they started locking it away. 

“Where is it? I’m destroying it tomorrow.”

“You dropped it on the lawn. I collected it earlier.”

 _Of course,_ he thinks. _I left Priscilla’s sacrifice just lying around in the grass._

“You know,” he tells Rick, “if you take it, you can finally go home.”

“The Enchanted Forest is my home.”

“Then you can sell it to the highest bidder.” With a disgusted noise, Jefferson lays down and rolls over. “Just get the thing out of my house.”

“I’d sooner burn it than let it fall into the wrong hands. I’ll help you set the fire. Now go back to sleep.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Want me to sing you a Khajiit lullabye?” Rick asks wryly. 

Jefferson exhales a laugh. He knows that if he asked, Rick actually would. 

“Go."

“Goodnight,” says Rick, dimming the lantern. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

* * *

Jefferson wakes alone in his bedroom. He can hear birdsong, and sunlight streams through a narrow gap in the curtains. His head feels heavy and he doesn’t want to move, but Grace is down the hall, motherless, and she needs him.

He doesn’t bother getting dressed. With the weather still warm, the loose shirt and pants he slept in will do. He checks Grace’s room, but she’s gone. Panicked, Jefferson runs downstairs. He is alarmed by sounds coming from the kitchen, then remembers Rick. He finds the Khajiit making breakfast and exhales in relief. 

“Good morning," Jefferson says.

Rick turns his head and nods hello. Grace is sitting in an enclosed chair raised to the breakfast table’s height, watching Rick cook. Her attention is drawn to Jefferson.

“Papa."

Jefferson smiles affectionately and kisses the top of her head.

“Morning, sweetheart.” To Rick, he says, “What’s on the menu today?”

“You don’t have any eggs or milk, so I gave Grace some applesauce, and I’m frying pork for us. There's some oatmeal, bread and jam, and of course…”

Rick holds up the sugar bowl. 

_“Don’t_ pour that on my bacon!” Jefferson scolds him, but in an amusing tone. “I know Khajiit love their sugar, but we like our _bread_ sweet here, not our meat.”

Rick chuckles. “I can fry some bread too, if you’d like.”

Making a pleased noise, Jefferson says, “I don’t deserve you.”

“I know,” Rick says lightly. He’s joking, but it gives Jefferson a twinge of guilt.

Needing a distraction and something to do with his hands, Jefferson starts making a pot of tea. Opening the jar in which they keep it, he notices the dwindling supply. 

Trying to keep the sadness out of his voice, he reminds Rick, “We don’t have a whole lot left.”

“Sugar?”

“Anything.”

Rick looks apologetic and starts to say, “I’m s--”

“It’s alright,” says Jefferson. “I’d ask what kind of tea you like, but there’s not much to choose from.”

“Whatever you have is fine.”

“Is it?” Jefferson asks, looking meaningfully at Grace. 

After a beat, Rick says, “Sit down, I’ll brew the tea.”

 _“No,”_ Jefferson snaps. Lowering his voice, he says, “No, I need to do _something.”_

He glances at Grace again, who blankly observes their conversation, not understanding any of the subtext.

“How is she?” Jefferson asks. 

“She’s okay,” says Rick. He could be lying, for all Jefferson knows, but if Grace was upset earlier, she looks happier now. “Calm.” 

He thinks Rick is still talking about Grace, then realizes it’s a command. 

“Take a deep breath,” Rick says, noticing Jefferson’s body has tensed and his hands are shaking. “Show me the steps.”

“To what?”

“Each step it takes to brew tea,” Rick says pleasantly, and Jefferson knows what he’s doing. _Sneaky cat._

So he explains it, which briefly clears his head. But sitting down to eat, it’s easier to notice that someone is missing. Grace keeps looking at Priscilla’s chair as well. 

Later, Jefferson is staring thoughtfully into his teacup when Grace says she needs the potty. Her request is faint, and Rick’s deeper voice catches his attention.

“Jefferson,” he says. “Grace needs you.”

Jefferson picks up Grace to bring her to the bathroom, and Rick clears the table. Before they exit the kitchen, Rick tells him, “I’ll light the fire next, and let you know when it’s ready.”

Jefferson blinks in confusion, then remembers what Rick means. He opens his mouth to reply, but there’s too much to say. There’s a lump in his throat, but he can’t let himself cry in front of Grace. This is grief of a different kind - grief you can’t process while changing a diaper.

“Okay,” he says quietly, and leaves.

* * *

Rick lets him know the fire is built, but Jefferson says he prefers to wait until Grace’s naptime. Truthfully, he’s procrastinating. Every reminder of their task twists his stomach in knots. He understands the source of the feeling but doesn’t want to. 

Grace falls asleep, and with no more excuses, Jefferson heads outside. Rick stands next to a large bonfire behind the house, the Hat’s case at his feet. 

“Open it,” he tells Rick, who unlatches the leather case and removes the Hat. He holds it carefully, leaving whatever happens next up to Jefferson. 

At the sight of it, Jefferson’s heart beats faster - it’s suddenly hard to breathe and he feels a wave of nausea.

Seeing his reaction, Rick asks in concern, “Jefferson?”

The bonfire is tall - it crackles audibly, and is likely more powerful than necessary. Jefferson can feel the searing heat, and the flames are surely strong enough to destroy a dangerous artifact. 

_Or to murder an old friend._

“Put it back, put it back!”

Jefferson grabs the Hat from Rick and slams it back into its case.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do it!”

Jefferson sits on the ground with the case in his lap, clutching the Hat with the same desperation he clung to Priscilla’s body. 

“I can’t do it.”

The Hat is Jefferson’s oldest companion, and has been his only constant for half his life. It’s given him safety, money, freedom and power. It’s given him his _name!_

_Who am I without the Hat?_

There’s one other person who would understand this feeling, but her opinion doesn’t matter anymore.

 _All the worst people are slaves to magic,_ he thinks.

“Give me a minute,” he tells Rick, taking the Hat back to the house. He stops on the porch, sitting on the steps.

“If this is your choice, I respect it,” says Rick, who has followed him. Jefferson looks up and the Khajiit is standing before him with his arms folded. 

“You won’t try to talk me out of it?”

“The decision is yours.”

Jefferson runs his palm across the Hat’s leather case. He doesn’t look at it, or at Rick, but past Rick’s shoulder towards the treeline, his eyes unfocused. There are worlds out there he’ll never get to see.

_Magic always comes with a price._

“I’ll just…” Jefferson swallows thickly. “I’ll keep it locked away. Safe and out of sight.”

Rick nods. He makes no judgement, seeming to trust Jefferson’s. The portal jumper made decisions they disagreed on in the past, but this isn’t one of them.

But he’s not a Jumper anymore. 

“Then I suppose this is when we part ways,” says Rick. Jefferson refocuses his eyes on the Khajiit. 

A little sadly, Jefferson replies, “I suppose it is.”

“I built the fire, I’ll put it out,” Rick reassures him. “But then I must go.”

“You’re too good a friend.”

“And you’re a good father.”

Eyes watering, Jefferson looks at Rick doubtfully and shakes his head.

Rick asks, “What will you do with the house?” 

“I’ll have to sell it,” Jefferson says, sniffling. He wipes his eyes. “Get a smaller house, maybe a cabin in the woods. Be a chicken farmer or something.”

Teasingly, Rick asks, “And what do you know about farming?”

“Not a damn thing.”

The two men laugh.

“You’ll figure it out,” says Rick. “You always do.”

“I always had help.”

The Khajiit looks at him fondly, and he probably thinks Jefferson means Priscilla and their friends, when he actually means the Hat.

Jefferson puts the Hat back in its trunk and locks it.

* * *

Rick stays one more night. On the porch, after breakfast, he says goodbye to Grace, picking her up and kissing her on the cheek. She laughs, tickled by his whiskers. 

“Bye Kitty,” she says. 

“Goodbye, little one.”

He sets her down to hug Jefferson.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Jefferson says. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome, my friend.”

“May your road lead to warm sands.”

“May your road lead to warm sands,” Rick replies.

The Khajiit throws his bag over his shoulder and starts walking. After he is some distance away, Jefferson has a thought.

“One last thing, my friend,” Jefferson calls. 

Rick turns around and gives him a friendly look.

“If you ever see that rabbit again?” Jefferson says coldly, “Kill him.”

With a sober expression, Rick doesn’t respond and continues on his way. Jefferson bends down to pick up little Grace, turning his vengeful glare into a dazzling smile.


End file.
